


Be Careful of Whom you Owe

by SqueezeBabe



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Dark!Blanca, M/M, Omegaverse, The Bitching Process
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21680617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SqueezeBabe/pseuds/SqueezeBabe
Summary: Blanca owes Foxx a favour and who knows what, or when, he will come to collect.
Relationships: Blanca/Foxx/Ash, Foxx/Ash, blanca/ash
Comments: 16
Kudos: 44
Collections: The Not-Asheiji Bang 2019





	Be Careful of Whom you Owe

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is my fic for the Not-Asheiji Bang.
> 
> @Trickster has provided the evocative art, with more art to follow from @XYLOShachar.
> 
> As usual, please heed the warnings; if these things do not tickle your fancy, then please do not read any further.
> 
> A huge thanks to @Agentcoop and Ravenwyck for attempting to Beta my terrible writing :p

The two men lurked in the shadows, their dark clothing allowing them to blend in with the gloom of the alleyway. Standing motionless, backs against the wall, neither of them wanted to draw attention to the fact that they were there and in the presence of each other’s company. Although they had worked together in the past, they had also worked against each other; that was the nature of being a gun for hire, a  _ mercenary _ if you will. You didn’t have friends, you just had people who weren’t being paid to kill you. Today.

This was different though. This wasn’t business. This was  _ personal,  _ and he liked to keep his personal dealings as private as possible.

Blanca resisted the urge to crinkle his nose at the smell of another alpha in his space, cigarette smoke assailing his sense of smell as his companion lit one up. It wasn't entirely unpleasant; he'd smelled worse, especially the cheap and nasty Soviet cigarettes… at least Foxx had expensive taste when it came to his cigarettes. He watched as the mercenary took a long drag, holding it for a few moments before letting it out in a slow, smoke-filled sigh.

"There's more where that came from." Foxx flicked his cigarette to dislodge the ash at the tip as he pointed with his chin at the photos that Blanca was holding. A slight smile played across his lips as the remnants of smoke rose from his nostrils, reminding Blanca of a dragon hoarding its treasure.

"Where did you even get these?" he asked, carefully examining each of them, committing their contents to memory, "And more importantly,  _ why _ are you showing them to me…" he fixed the mercenary with a steely look, the alpha within him resisting the urge to bare his teeth. "What do you want, Foxx?"

The Belgian chuckled at the barely restrained display of dominance, taking another drag of his cigarette and then stubbing it out before answering.

"I want a favour, Sergei, a chit if you will, that I can call in at some point in the future. For now, the feeling that you owe me something will be good enough." Foxx grinned at him; there was no guile or malice in his expression as the man patted Blanca on the shoulder. 

"I don't like these sort of men any more than you do, Sergei, they're bad for  _ my _ business too, but if anyone is going to get rid of them, then it's going to be  _ you,  _ no? You're the one-man army Sergei, and sure, you could have found this information on your own eventually; you're not a stupid man… we could rule the seedy underbelly of the world one day, you and I…" Foxx had an almost wistful look on his face.

Blanca almost scoffed, that this cold and ruthless man’s features could soften in such a way.

Foxx caught Blanca’s expression, "What, Sergei? You don't have a retirement plan? There  _ is _ more to life than just killing people."

At this Blanca did laugh, the sound low and rich. "Foxx, my retirement plans did involve growing old with the love of my life…" his fist tightened around the photograph he was holding, crinkling the image and crushing it. "But now that's all changed. I think I'll come up with a new one… eventually."

The mercenary gave him a calculated look before moving away, further into the gloom, his hands in his pockets to ward off the chill as the darkness coalesced around him. "Think about it at least, but in the meantime, you have the information you were looking for… and now you just owe me a favour."

\----

Blanca stood at ease in front of the ornate desk, eyes staring out the window beyond, but still carefully watching the alpha sitting behind it with his peripheral vision. The man had remained largely unaffected by time, a little thicker, a little less hair, but still the same alpha that he had been in service to all those years ago...

“Sergei, I have a favour to ask of you…”

Blanca winced internally at the use of his given name, but he didn’t have the heart to correct Monsieur Golzine. The man had always known him as Sergei, recognised early on that he wasn’t just a brute force mercenary; that the man behind the impossibly large frame had possessed a mind and a rare intelligence, and had subsequently hired him for his brains and not his brawn. He could respect a man like Golzine, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with him.

“There’s been word that one of the Club Cod regulars seems to have, how should we say,  _ branched _ out on his own. I want you to find him, and his  _ merchandise. _ Deal with him however you see fit. From what I hear, the club won’t miss his patronage.” Golzine paused, a thoughtful expression on his face has he absentmindedly tapped the desk with a finger. “But bring whatever it is that he’s amusing himself with...” the tapping stopped, “...if there’s anything worth salvaging that is.”

Blanca inclined his head, the correct amount of acquiescence and subservience to the man who was paying him handsomely for his services. Golzine was intelligent, dangerously so, and ruthless when it mattered the most; he was an alpha that commanded respect, begrudging or otherwise. If he wanted this matter to be looked into, there was something more than just mere competition. 

He knew what went on at the club, the kind of alphas that frequented it, and deals that were made behind it’s doors. He also knew that Monsieur Golzine liked to sample the  _ merchandise _ himself, and partake in the many activities that it had to offer its more discerning clients. The mafia Don had made sure that he had whatever blackmail material he required to get whatever it was that he wanted. 

This local baseball coach was a person of little value, but he was bad for club business, and Monsieur Golzine  _ was _ a businessman after all. 

\----

The young alpha stared at the four walls that had now become his life. A gilded cage was still a cage, no matter how much you tried to justify the circumstances.

He once again cursed the name of the shady uncle that encouraged his parents to borrow money from the even shadier loan shark. Said uncle then had skipped town leaving his parents to try and service the deliberately impossible debt. They had failed of course, and the result was that he had been sold to the Corsican Mafia to pay off the debt that was owed. 

His uncle's body had been found a few days later, but by then, the deed had been done.

Sergei Varishikov had celebrated his fourteenth birthday under the fat and sweaty, heaving body of the local mafia Don before being shipped to America for "services rendered".

They had found the Don much later, eyes gouged out and his dismembered penis stuffed into his own mouth, but by then, the young alpha was already being put to work on a freight tanker that was sailing towards it's new destination.

The Don hadn’t been very well liked, so in essence he’d done them a favour.

America was nothing like the rural Kazakhstan he had grown up in. It was loud and gaudy and full of an excess that made his eyes water. The knowledge that he was now just a part of it made the bile rise hot and bitter in the back of his throat. 

The Don's here were also more dangerous.

He was fifteen when they'd injected him with something that made his skin feel like it was fire and insides empty. He had begged, shamelessly, pheromones rising off him in a cloud of need, for anything that would ease the ache that was building in the pit of his stomach.

It was the first time he'd cried out in pleasure, and he would never forget the humiliation.

He'd learned to be obedient then, trying to find other ways in which he could serve his Corsican masters so that he wouldn't have to relive the feeling of being desperate and disgusted all at once; of being used as an omega.

On his sixteenth birthday he was gifted to an old mafia affiliate. The old man had a penchant for young boys, but unlike all the others, he was happy to just have Sergei parade around in a loincloth and serve him his meals and make him tea… and instead of forcing him to submit to him in the bedroom, the old beta man begged him to let Sergei service him instead.

It was the first time he’d been allowed to behave as his biology dictated and it had been a heady experience.

The old man also discovered that Sergei was a quick study and possessed a sharp and intelligent mind, and the young alpha’s days were soon spent in learning. He had grown fond of the old man, and was genuinely saddened when he'd passed peacefully in his sleep. 

This was now where found himself, in a room that contained priceless artworks, and comfortable leather chairs - but was locked from the outside, dressed in nothing but the gilded loincloth that had become his customary attire, he waited.

\-----

By outward appearances Dino Golzine was a stout man, balding, but gracefully so. A distinguished looking gentleman by anyone's reckoning. It was also by anyone’s reckoning that he was on track to become the new Don; he was the youngest alpha so far at forty-two.

He’d demonstrated startling business acumen within the Corsican Mafia, turning a profit where others had scoffed at the opportunities presented to them, and had begun amassing a surprising amount of personal wealth. Others blamed the old Don for allowing this young upstart too much freedom, but eventually, grudgingly, offered their respect. 

Now, seated at one of the many tables in the ballroom, he made small talk with members of the other mafia families. They were all there for the auction of Monsieur Aravena’s estate; the old man had died with no surviving family, and as per tradition, his estate would be subjected to an auction between the existing mafia families. No money would change hands as such, instead, everyone was given the same number of tokens with which to bid with. You could always trade information and call in favours to obtain more tokens from the other members if there was an item that you  _ truly _ wanted.

Dino ran his stack of tokens through his fingers, allowing them to chime softly as they landed on the table. He’d bid on Monsieur Aravena’s extensive library collection unchallenged; he knew that the old man had collected rare and esoteric readings, and he also knew that such things held little value to the others in the room. They preferred to bid on things that had  _ obvious _ monetary value such as the many artworks the old man had collected over the years. The Don scoffed to himself. He  _ knew _ the worth of some of the books in the old man’s collection and he was getting a much  _ better _ deal. 

It was towards the end of the evening, when the bell sounded, signalling the last item for bidding. An uncomfortable hush came over the room as a young, half naked man was escorted out onto the makeshift stage. Dino narrowed his eyes slightly, the boy was a bit scrawny looking for an alpha, lanky and awkward, but there would be no doubt that he would fill out as he matured.

A low murmuring began, as the men began to discuss the perceived worth of the boy, who was obviously the old man’s play-thing; Monsieur Aravena’s appetites were hardly unknown.

But who wanted an alpha that had obviously been used as an omega? Could he even be considered an alpha anymore? Or was he already bitched?

Tinkling of metal against metal underpinned the conversations as remaining tokens were tallied up. It was no secret either that there were only a handful of men in the room who truly shared the same tastes, and as such the eyes of the room fell onto them. 

“Gentlemen?” the auctioneer raised an eyebrow and waited.

“Does he do any tricks?” The question was followed by ribald laughter, “Can he go into heat?” 

Dino resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You’d be better off asking him how many languages he can speak,” he muttered under his breath. 

Dino’s eyes narrowed as he watched the boy scratch his nose, and as his hands returned to their original clasped state, slowly extend four fingers, as if he was stretching out his hand. Dark brown eyes flickered upward slightly to meet his gaze before returning to the floor.

The boy had read his lips, and answered his question.

He felt a fluttering in his stomach. An undeniable thrill coursing through him. This alpha definitely had talents beyond bed-warming, bitched or not, and no doubt Monsieur Aravena had fostered them. 

“Can you read?” he mouthed, watching the boy carefully. An imperceptible nod answered him. 

“Numbers?” 

Another slight nod.

Dino sat back in his chair, his finger tapping on his stack of tokens.

“Killed anyone?”

He watched as the boy paled slightly, his hands clenching into fists, and that was all the answer he needed.

Leaning back towards the table, he pitched his voice so that only those who shared his table would hear him. “I want that boy.”

\----

There was a smattering of applause and a few random cheers as the boy was struck out. Blanca watched the baseball game with detached amusement, notepad and pen in hand to ward off inquisitive parents, and the subtle smell of alpha pheromones to ward off idle conversation.

Once he had told them he was he was a baseball scout looking for local talent, the parents practically gave him their life story in a bid to make him notice  _ their  _ son. To be fair, he  _ was _ observing the local talent, but not for baseball prowess.

There was a small blond boy, possibly an alpha, that had caught his attention, and not by accident. 

He was smaller than his teammates but faster and more agile, and he pitched with unerring accuracy. He'd also seen him in scraps with the other boys throughout the game, fighting with a ferocity which made him think of a feral kitten, hissing and spitting, biting and clawing with everything it possessed… except when it came to the coach. 

There, the blond boy would freeze up immediately, the fire within him dying as if a bucket of cold water had been thrown over him, turning him into a meek and mild creature with soulless eyes… which was a shame really, because he liked the way those crystal green eyes flashed with the boy’s inner fire. 

It was clear that the boy didn’t want the older alpha's attention. 

Was there something more about the situation what the Monsieur wasn’t telling him? It really wasn’t his place to speculate on the Don’s business dealings, he was getting paid to do the job, not sit there and psychoanalyse the reasons behind it. 

Another smattering of applause as another kid was struck out by the blond boy’s pitching. Blanca leaned over to one of the male parents sitting in front of him. “That blond kid pitching, what’s his story?” he asked.

“Oh him? That’s Aslan, though everyone calls him Ash.” the man replied, his eyes flickering momentarily over Blanca, taking in the large frame and the smell of alpha pheromones; but more importantly the notebook. 

“Word has it that he’s got a bit of a rough home life, nobody ever comes to watch him play, so the coach has taken him under his wing a bit; takes him to practice, makes sure he comes to games. If he didn’t, the boy would never show up, and we might lose more games than we win…”

Blanca just nodded, his eyes still on the boy in question, Ash, as he threw another ball and the call of “strike one” was sounded. 

“That coach really has done this area a solid, got together all the kids and gave them all something to do; we were really surprised at first, but then the kids showed some aptitude and started winning games. It got them really excited, and now more kids are involved, and the community has grown… nobody did anything like this before, and it’s great!” The man was gushing, his admiration for this supposedly selfless coach evident in his words. 

“How long has he been coaching?” Blanca asked. 

“It’s been a few years at least,” the man answered, his eyes drawn back to the field as the call of “strike two” rang out. “He moved here from… I can’t remember where, but he was at the park one day, playing ball with the kids. We were a bit suspicious at first, but the kids loved him, and a couple of the parents invited him around for dinner, and he’s just a really nice guy that loves baseball.”

Blanca thanked the man and continued watching the game, taking ‘notes’ for the benefit of all that were watching him, his eyes never straying far from the blonde boy, or the coach that never seemed to be far from him. He noticed that the man never missed an opportunity to touch the boy in some way, a pat on the shoulder, ruffling his hair… and once, when he thought that no one was looking, his knuckles grazing the inside of the boy’s thigh.

As the day waned, eventually it came down to the last inning, the parents were growing restless. Apparently this was the limit of their attention and the amount of time they were willing to devote to the childrens amateur baseball feats. The home team was winning, they just required Ash to strike out the other team’s last batter. 

The little alpha scraped the pitchers mound with a worn out sneaker while he sized up his opponent, his green eyes glittering fiercely in the afternoon sun. Lifting his knee up in preparation for pitching he paused for a moment before releasing the ball in a flurry of movement. 

"Strike 3! Out!" 

The kids out in the field came running towards the pitchers mound as the batsman walked away, downcast and grumbling. The small blonde alpha was swamped by his teammates as they cheered, and Blanca caught a glimpse of the boy's first genuine smile.

He felt his stomach constrict, and the alpha in him growled possessively, the scent in the air turning slightly acrid as his pheromones responded. With a grimace, he damped them down, hoping the surrounding parents didn't notice his uncharacteristic and out of place, aggressive display. He usually had better control over his alpha side than that, but the slip up gave him pause.

Just what exactly was that little boy? Was he an alpha? If that was the case, his alpha shouldn’t have responded at all., Or was he an omega? That would have explained his outburst, but the boy didn't have any of the usual omega characteristics other than being smaller than his peers. He would need to get closer to him, to scent him to find out for sure.

He watched from the corner of his eye as the parents got up from their seats, making their way over to the dugout area. He pretended to be writing in his notebook as he did so, waiting for the crowd to die down and disperse, and, when he was sure that nobody was watching him, he quietly left the bleachers and made his way stealthily to where the change rooms were behind the dugouts. He picked the lock to the back door quickly and efficiently, making his way inside and began looking for a suitable place to hide. 

The room was spacious enough, with a separate area for the showers and toilets, and another area that seemed to be used for storage, full of old gym mats and decrepit looking furniture. Old rusty shelves lined the walls, filled with tattered books and magazines and the occasional mouldy glove and broken pieces of baseball bat. He noticed that some of the mats had been rearranged carefully on the floor, tucked in under one of the shelves, and he could feel a tightening in his stomach as to what reasons could possibly be behind such a thing.

He could hear the coach making general conversation with a few stragglers and their parents as he hid himself in the wet area of the building. He doubted very much that any of them would be having a shower after the game and find him. 

Without a sound, he hunkered himself down into the last stall to wait. Taking a small aerosol spray from his pocket, he sprayed the scent blocker over his scent glands. The military grade blocker would prevent any of his own scent from being detected and destroy any lingering traces, allowing him to be effectively invisible to anyone who might be able to sniff him out. 

His patience was eventually rewarded. He could hear the leftover parents saying their goodbyes, and the clang of the door that led to the dugout being open and shut.

“C’mon Aslan, let’s give you your reward now hmmm?” the Coach’s voice echoed in the concrete space of the changeroom. 

Blanca wrinkled his nose at the smell of the other alpha flooded the room. There was a tinge to the scent, an undercurrent of something unnatural that made his teeth itch with the need to sink them into something. 

There was a rustle of clothing, the clinking of a belt being undone, and the sound of a zipper being lowered. 

“That’s a good boy now, you’ve gotten good at this.” 

There was a wet slurping sound and a small whimper. The smell of the young alpha’s arousal reached him. Unsurprisingly it smelled rotten to him. Something about it just seemed… wrong.

And vaguely familiar.

The wet slurping sounds continued, interspersed with breathy whimpers and guttural moans, the smell in the air intensifying. As well as the rotten smell, he could now smell a heavier earthier scent, of tobacco and woodchips, and underneath it all, a subtle scent of mint and something sweeter that he couldn’t quite identify. It made him agitated and anxious and he could feel the alpha within him growing restless.

He gritted his teeth against the alpha instincts that were vying for dominance. It wouldn’t do to blow his cover, just because he couldn’t keep himself under control. The Monsieur had given him a job to do, and it was incredibly unlike him to be unable to do a task that had been assigned to him. There was definitely something strange and unnatural happening, and no doubt this was the occurrence that he’d been asked to investigate.

“That’s enough now, you’ve gotten it nice and wet. Turn around and bend over and show me how slicked up you are…” 

There was more rustling and movement, making Blanca wish he’d had the foresight to bring a small mirror or something; anything that would let him see what was going on, rather than hiding in the shadows and having to listen and piece together what was happening himself. 

There was a high pitched whine, a small cry of dismay as the coach grunted and wet, squelching sounds filled the air.

The sickly sweet smell intensified, almost making Blanca want to gag. It drowned out the woody, earthy scents, but seemed to make the rotten smell stronger. How could the coach stand the stench? He could barely tolerate the foul odour himself; the only thing stopping him from retching was the fact that he’d been in worse smelling situations and managed to make it without additional fuss. Noises and bodily functions gave your position away and got you killed. 

“Good boy, see how good you take my cock now eh?” The coach gave a rough laugh, and Blanca could hear the sounds of scraping and sliding as they shifted position and moved around the room. 

There was a loud moan, and the whimpering cry of the boy, and soon the wet slapping sounds of flesh against flesh reverberated through the concrete room. 

The boy gave out hiccuping sobs, and breathless whines as staccato grunts and the sounds of impact increased in tempo.

“Aww, look at you! I can’t believe this is actually working!” The coach was nearly growling as he fucked the boy. “Who would have thought that if you fucked a baby alpha enough that he’d turn into an omega slut! I gotta thank the boys at the club for telling me about this…”

Blanca froze, his stomach churning itself into knots as he realised what was actually happening, the awful smell in the air becoming frighteningly familiar… after all, it had nearly happened to him.

The boy was being subjected to “Forced Regendering”, or to put it quite simply; being “bitched”.

There seemed to be an evolutionary quirk where one could turn an alpha into an omega by exposing them to repeated doses of alpha ejaculate. Scientists and biologists reasoned that this came about in populations where there were too many alpha’s and not enough omega’s. People knew about it, but nobody actually did it. Society was advanced enough that such population control methods were no longer necessary, and to do such a thing to a young alpha these days was considered barbaric; tantamount to sexual abuse and rape.

It also resulted in the rotten and sickly smell; pheromones that were so mixed that they gave off no clear scent. The aberration that caused a foul stench until the regendering was complete. 

His hands tightened into fists until he could feel his blunt nails digging into his palms and he struggled to keep his breathing even and quiet. It wouldn’t do to relive his own personal trauma and lose sight of the bigger picture. There was obviously an underground element at Club Cod that was doing more than just taking advantage of the young boys that were currently available. Not content to make use of what  _ merchandise  _ was there, they were running their own darker, more subversive child prostitution ring.

“Yer gonna take my knot real good, arentcha boy!” The slap of flesh increased in speed, and he could hear the other alpha beginning to growl as his speech became rougher. 

Blanca took the opportunity whilst the alpha was obviously distracted, to creep forward from his hiding place. He felt what was happening, on some deep personal level, and he could feel the anger, barely suppressed rage, bubbling up to the surface, his own alpha instincts screaming that he wipe this man from the face of the earth…

But first he needed evidence, to take back to the Monsieur, and after that, he was sure Golzine wouldn’t care if the man ‘disappeared’, in fact, he’d probably ask the mercenary to personally see to it that he did. The alpha would be most vulnerable as he knotted, his instincts dulled by his primal urge to breed; it would be the perfect time to strike. 

He crept closer until he could peek around the corner of the wall, his body still hidden, but his position giving him perfect line of sight to where the coach was hunched over the trembling naked boy, the pistoning of his hips now matching the wet sounds of sex and body contact.

Jade green eyes sparkled with tears, the boy’s pale cheeks were now flushed red. Blanca could see the bruises starting to form on his lily-white thighs, glistening with slick as the coach’s rough hands gripped them tightly, holding them apart as the man thrust heavily between them. 

The sight made the alpha within him twist and writhe and he ground his teeth in frustration. The smell in the air was becoming sweeter, though still not quite “right”, and it was starting to affect him. Nobody really knew how long the bitching process took, no two subjects had ever produced the same results. He knew that he had only managed to avoid the process himself because of the drugs that the Don had given him; something strange and certainly experimental, but they had worked… almost a little too well.

There were times he was  _ too  _ much alpha and he could barely control the beast within… it was also what made him the exceptional mercenary that he was, and had indebted him to his current employer.

As he readied himself, adrenaline flooded his body making the fine hairs on his arms and neck stand on end. All it would take would be one swift movement before he would be standing behind the coach, and his strong hands would grasp the man's chin and the back of his head, and within scant moments his neck would be broken and it would all be over.

No sound. No fuss.

With a grunt the coach maneuvered himself onto his back, lifting the boy to balance him on his lap. Tipping forward, the boy grabbed hold of the shelving for support even as the coach thrust roughly upwards, slapping him on one of his pale arsecheeks. 

Red bloomed over the abused flesh, even as the blond let out a shuddering cry, fresh tears tracking down his cheeks. From this new angle, Blanca could actually see the coach's cock pumping into the boy, his hands gripping those small hips hard enough to leave dents and bruise the pale skin. 

"Look atcha ya lil whore, yer hole is just sucking down my dick, you  _ want  _ to be a little omega slut, dontcha? I'm gonna knot you so fucking hard… come in you so much that you'll fucking  _ slosh _ when you crawl out of here…"

With a roar, the coach slammed his hips upwards, even as he pulled the boy down. Green eyes opened wide, a loud wail falling from his lips even as his little cock spurted weakly, his hand scrabbling over the shelf above them.

The scent in the air changed. A sugary sweetness assailed Blanca's nostrils and his answering erection was like a punch to his gut. 

It was the smell of an omega going into heat.

"Will you look at that!" The coach's laugh was harsh and guttural. "You went into heat like a fucking bitch! Do you like my knot that much huh? You want more? Want me to keep fucking you? Here?" He ground his hips into the boy, making him moan weakly.

The boy's cheeks were flushed, his green eyes going hazy even as the smell intensified, his hands moving weakly over the shelf…

With a start, Blanca realised that he was looking for something hidden underneath the detritus.

Before he could move from his hiding place, Blanca watched in growing horror as the boy pulled a gun from the shelf, his body tensing as he pulled the trigger. The crack of the gun firing was deafening in the small space of the changeroom.

It sounded again. 

And again.

Blood sprayed upwards, thick gobs splattering the boy's face and chest in bright red ichor as he continued to pull the trigger, until the echoing boom of gunshots had faded and all that was left was the sound of heavy breathing and the continued click of the trigger.

The gun fell from trembling fingers, clattering to the floor. The boy tried to get up, crying out when he found he couldn’t. The coach’s knot was still firmly embedded inside him. He tried again, his eyes squeezing shut with the effort, whining in pain, his body shaking with it. 

The smell of fear and alarm filled the air, sharp and acrid underneath the cloying smell of omega in heat. 

“No… dammit,  _ no! _ ”

It was the first thing Blanca had heard the kid say since the whole ordeal had started. 

Something within him twisted as he watched the newly turned omega struggle against the knot that held him in place, wincing as he heard the boy yelp in pain. Before the boy could injure himself further in his panic, Blanca finally moved from his hiding place, 

The boy startled and stared up at him, green eyes wide with fear, face flushed with the effects of his heat and exertion. Blanca crouched down next to him, avoiding the spreading pool of blood, his hand cupping the boy’s chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing him to look at him. 

The scent blocker that he’d sprayed on himself meant that he wasn’t able to release calming pheromones and comfort the boy; it would have been much easier to just overwhelm the boy with his alpha scent and do what needed to be done. His own scent would have been able to drown out the smell that was emanating off the young omega in waves and lessen the impact it was having on his own alpha instincts: an omega’s first heat and the need to claim the omega and breed him. 

“That knot is stuck inside you until he loses enough blood for it to go down.” His voice was low and calm. “You can help it go down faster by squeezing those muscles, pushing enough blood out of it until you can slide off it. If you keep trying the way you are, you’ll just hurt yourself even more.” 

Blanca looked around the room, and at the congealing pool of blood that seemed to soak into the mattress and ooze it’s way around it. The noise of the gunfire would have attracted the attention of anyone close enough to hear it; it  _ was _ a lot louder than the sounds of sex. No doubt it was the reason why the coach had chosen this place for it: it provided both ease of access and opportunity, and was both deserted and secluded enough that it didn’t draw any unwanted scrutiny or spectators.

There was no way he was going to be able to clean up  _ and _ get the boy out before someone came to investigate. It was going to be one or the other, not both, and if the boy didn’t hurry, it would be neither.

The boy was letting out soft mewling sounds. His cheeks were flushed a darker hue and his eyes had gone glassy as he feebly rocked back and forth on the dead man’s knot. The scent in the air was sweet and cloying, almost like the smell of burnt sugar, and it was becoming difficult to ignore what it represented.

With a growl, Blanca stood up, making his way back to the wet area of the changeroom. Taking some tattered scraps of paper towel, he wet them and began to scrub angrily at the inside of his wrist, trying to remove the scent blocker. The little omega was now too far gone into his first heat to respond to anything other than the commanding scent of an alpha, and was now probably too weak to put any sort of effort into squeezing out the knot that was stuck inside him.

Something irrational welled up inside him. What did he care? He’d done his job. He’d investigated the coach, found out what he and whatever underground faction he was part of were up to. Golzine had also instructed him to bring the boy -  _ if _ there was anything left to salvage from him. Blanca looked over at the boy as he scrubbed. Was the boy actually  _ worth  _ anything to the Monsieur?

The omega keened softly, calling out his need to whatever alpha would hear him, grinding against the knot that was still inside him. His little cock was erect, dribbling precome down it’s length, and the smell of his heat was only growing stronger. If the sound of gunfire hadn’t attracted anyone’s attention, then the smell of an omega in heat would bring every opportunistic alpha that was downwind.

The inside of Blanca’s wrist was now red-raw and he sniffed at it experimentally. He wasn’t sure if he could even smell himself; the omega’s scent drowned everything out. But,  _ he _ didn’t need to be able to smell it. Perhaps it was a good thing that the omega’s scent was saturating the enclosed space, it meant that no one would be able to detect  _ his _ scent, and that’s all that mattered now.

Making his way back to the boy, Blanca crouched down in front of him, taking care not to stand in the congealing pool of blood. He couldn’t ignore the sweet beguiling scent for much longer, his self-control slipping enough that he could feel his own cock starting to swell, straining against the front of his pants. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he reasoned with himself. If anything, it would make his own scent stronger.

He passed his wrist under the omega’s nose, rubbing it against his cheek before repeating the process again. The little omega’s eyelids fluttered, his hands reaching out to grasp Blanca’s own, bringing it back up to his face. Pink lips parted as the omega breathed in the alpha scent, mouth moving over the scent gland in Blanca’s wrist. As Blanca pulled his wrist away, the boy whined in protest, leaning forward to chase his scent, stopping short as he pulled on the knot inside him. 

Blanca resisted the urge to shout his frustrations. What the fuck was wrong with this alpha’s knot? The bloodloss should have deflated it enough that mixed in with the omega’s slick, it should have worked itself free… 

_ Unless this omega is now suddenly so tight… _ the thought made him throb painfully as the implications went straight to his heat-addled dick. 

The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose and a tingling began in the pit of his stomach. There was a reason why he was one of the best in the business; not just because of his skills and training, but because he possessed an innate ability to sense when he was in danger… and that alone was what sometimes kept him alive.

And right now, he had the feeling that time had run out and that someone was approaching.

Blanca pulled the omega close to him, the boy willingly nuzzling into the side of his neck, searching out his scent. 

" _ Omega. Be silent and hang on. _ " His voice was pitched to the low commanding growl of an alpha. 

The boy whimpered quietly against the crook of his neck, breath huffing as his small arms reached and wrapped themselves tightly around the larger man.

One arm encircling the boy and holding him steady, his other reaching under the cuff of his jeans, his fingers closed around the handle of the thin bladed knife that he kept strapped to his calf 

Steadying himself, he pulled the boy upward, feeling him squeeze his eyes shut against the skin of his neck as he stopped short, held in place by the knot stuck inside him. With the fluidity born of countless hours of practice, he silently pulled the knife free.

The omega shivered in his arms as he undoubtedly felt the cold kiss of steel as it slid against the sensitive skin of his bottom, but remained silent, just as the alpha had commanded him to.

With a swift movement, he cut into the dead man’s flesh, the muscle of his knot parting with a whisper under the wickedly sharp blade. Blood poured weakly from the stump, released from the muscular pressure that kept it from returning to the body, but not in the spray that it would under the arterial pressure of a heart that was no longer beating. He quickly moved away to avoid the newly spreading pool, even as the momentary flow slowed to an ooze as it congealed, still holding the boy close to his chest with the rest of offending appendage still trapped inside him.

Blanca took stock of the situation. In his arms was a naked omega in heat, their pheromones starting to saturate the small area of the clubhouse changerooms. The smell would be impossible not to notice at this point, and any alpha that could smell it would be drawn to it. When they got here, they’d find a dead body, head riddled with bullet holes and missing his dick…

He didn’t have time to dispose of the body, hell, he wasn’t sure if he had enough time to escape without detection at this point. The journey to the car that he’d deliberately parked a few blocks away as a precaution, would now be nearly impossible to make without someone noticing; it was now or never.

Moving quickly, he located the boy's clothes, discarded in a pile next to the door of the dugout entrance where the Coach must've made him take them off, impatient to get the boy naked and under him. Putting the omega down, he managed to coax him back into his clothes, and then and the vial of scent blocker from his pocket, sprayed what remained all over the boy. It wouldn't block his scent completely but it would stop it from continuing to emanate from him.

The omega whined at him, his arms reaching for him. There were no signs that his heat was abating; if anything it was getting worse. The boy was practically rutting himself against his body, squirming like he was trying to force the knot that was still inside him even deeper. Blanca could only grit his teeth in ever growing frustration as he watched a dark stain spread across the seat of the boy’s pants; a mixture of blood and slick was seeping through and would definitely draw unwanted consideration of any  _ concerned  _ passerby.

There was a crunch of footsteps from outside, unsure and cautious. Blanca froze, ears straining to pick up any other noises, his hand automatically covering the omega’s mouth to prevent him from making any noise. The omega nuzzled his wrist where his scent gland was, his green eyes closing in bliss even as his mouth opened to suck at it. The alpha felt his stomach lurch and his dick throb painfully in response. For someone who’d only been an omega for all of ten minutes, the boy was certainly showing  _ aptitude _ for his new secondary gender.

“Hello?”

It was definitely time to leave.

The footsteps continued around the building, to the dugout entrance. 

“Hello?” The voice called out again, even as whomever the voice belonged to began to open the door.

Some people were just too curious for their own good.

Blanca disengaged himself from the needy omega and grabbed a filthy looking towel that was lying discarded on the floor, quickly wrapping it around his forearm before lifting the omega and balancing him on his hip, his slick and blood stained bottom resting on his covered forearm. The towel would protect his jacket long enough for them to get to his car, and then hopefully would hopefully prevent the car seat from being compromised as well. 

Even as the door swung open and the screaming started, Blanca had already taken the boy and slipped quietly out of the back entrance.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows as Blanca hurried out of the park. It was a miracle that nobody was around, not even some random person walking their dog. The cool breeze blew away the omega’s scent, carrying it in the opposite direction of where they needed to go, buying them more time before another alpha noticed and came to take advantage of an omega in heat. 

The walk to the car was equally uneventful, almost anti-climatic compared to the potential drama of being caught, but now that they’d made it, the rest of the journey would be a lot easier. Blanca popped the trunk of the car; he had been prepared for  _ nearly _ every scenario. The trunk contained black plastic bags as well as an assortment of clothes. He grabbed one of the plastic bags and laid it out on the backseat to protect the upholstery; the towel the boy had been resting on was already stained. Blanca would have to burn it,  _ and _ the boy’s clothes later.

Easing the omega into the car, even as he whined and protested, Blanca buckled him in. He didn’t need to get pulled over by the cops for something as simple as not wearing a seatbelt. The boy’s face was still flushed and his green eyes sparkled with heat haze, and although the smell of his heat had faded from being outside, and the scent blocker he’d sprayed on him had dulled the rest, he still smelled tantalisingly sweet.

Impulsively, Blanca leaned forward, his nose brushing against the boy's neck and over his scent gland. Breathing in the new scent, he couldn’t help the answering thump in the pit of his stomach and the tightening in his groin; he could even feel his teeth itch with the urge to bite and claim. There was just something about this little omega that crawled under his skin and made him think irrationally. 

Without meaning to, and unsure why the impulse took him so, Blanca opened his mouth and placed a wet, sucking kiss over the scent gland. Arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, pulling him closer, even as the omega gasped and panted, arching himself up into the larger man's embrace. 

Blanca growled, his teeth scraping against the sensitive skin of the omegas neck, his cock growing painfully hard in response to the boy's willingness. It was a far cry from the behaviour he had witnessed when the coach had first pulled the little omega into the changeroom…

Pulling back, he stared into the green eyes that seemed to burn with need. He  _ would _ claim the boy as his own; no one would need to know. He would train the boy, much like he himself had been trained, and when the time was right, he would reverse the bitching process. 

His hand cupped the boy's cheek, thumb gently rubbing against the flushed cheek even as the omega let out a breathy moan that went straight to his dick, even his knot was beginning to swell in response...

But first he had to get him to his apartment and remove the dead flesh from inside him before it went necrotic and ended his new plans prematurely.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it all the way til the end!
> 
> The next chapter of this fic will hopefully be written/posted over the Christmas break.
> 
> If you have any suggestions/thoughts about what you think should happen next, please comment on the fic, or come and yell at me on twitter!


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